Brown writes about the public arena of life. She says sometimes we find ourselves face down in the public arena--she began listing ways that happens--divorce (nope), being fired (nope), tough parenting moments (BINGO!). I guess we've been living in the arena for a few months...
It's true, we've had some tough parenting moments, but not just that, we've had some tough family moments. One of our children has really struggled and his choice to face his struggle head on has put him in the public arena. As he walked into that arena, head held high I asked him, "What do you want us to tell people? What story do you want us to use?" "The truth," he told me, "I'm tired of secrecy and lies." (It's almost like he's read Brene Brown books--he's living into his vulnerability, claiming his power, releasing his shame) And so we have.
Now before you think I'm that brave, let me assure you I'm not standing on a corner shouting out the details, I'm not even going to put the details in here, but it's public enough and with publicity comes conversation....lots and lots of conversation--usually not to your face.
Over the last several weeks I have had 6-8 parents reach out to me via email, text, phone or at school events, cocktail parties, even the grocery store because they wanted to talk. They'd heard about what was happening, they wanted to share their story, their struggle with something very similar. The thing is the conversation always either begins or ends with something like this, "Please don't tell anyone. I don't want anyone to know. What would people think?" "Gosh I don't know," I want to say, "What do you think about us?" But I don't--I usually hug them and assure them I'm hear to listen and they can be assured I won't say a word. And I won't.
Yesterday I was thinking about this and how awful it is that people can't be open and honest. I was thinking about how lonely and frightened people must be, how out of control they must feel, and I thought I was glad they reached out to me. I have felt so sad for them and been thinking about how we as a society can come together, need to come together and share our stories--to put down our shame--I've been wondering how do we let go of our fear and be honest? But today--as I was running and listening to Brown talk about shame I realized these people are hiding because of their fear and the shame they think they carry, and it feels like they want ME to carry their burden.
And then I got mad. "Seriously?!?!?!" I thought as I ran faster. "You are calling me; unloading your shit onto me, me who has had to be painfully open and vulnerable, whose children and husband have had to be painfully open and vulnerable but you want me to keep your secret so your precious children can continue to be seen as the precious children they are with no flaws? SERIOUSLY!?!?!?How dare you?" (And btw--I do think your children are precious...)
That lasted 1/2 mile--I couldn't keep up the pace either with my body or heart. I couldn't stay angry because I understood all to well wanting to hide, and so I went back to being sad; I went back to feeling scared and vulnerable and exposed and alone.
I started thinking about the story of the woman caught in adultery and Jesus telling the crowd that the person with no sin should throw the first stone. (John 8:1-11) I wanted to be Jesus in the story--you know standing with those who called me, but I couldn't make that image happen. Instead the image I have is being the woman--publicly exposed. I thought how lonely that must have felt to know there were others who carried her same "sin" and although they didn't throw any stones, they quietly walked away leaving her standing there broken and alone with only her God. I wonder if she knew who they were? I wonder if before Jesus spoke and they walked away if she looked into their eyes pleading with them to speak up--to admit they too had made mistakes...
That's how those conversations feel--it's not that any one of these people has wanted to throw a stone at me (I'm sure there are some out there who do), but they also just want to walk away avoiding my eyes, avoiding the public arena, the public humiliation, hiding and still carrying their hidden shame.
I'd really like to wrap this blog up with how much empathy and compassion I have for them; how much I understand and don't have any hard feelings about it, but I also want to be brave like my son and tell the truth. (Brown calls it bad assery--and let me tell you my boy is one BADASS practicing bad assery everyday!) The thing is, it does hurt and frankly it's an added burden because I do care--I do have empathy and compassion, and because I don't want people to have to carry this alone, so along with my own shame, I'll carry theirs.
But here's the deal--I'll carry your shame; I'll hold your secrets; I'll pray for you, talk to you and help you walk through this all the while pretending that we're the only family with "the problem." I'll gladly do all that; I don't want you to be alone, to feel alone, but here's your part of the deal--when my family is back in the public arena, please make sure your children, you know those children you're privately talking to me about? Please make sure they don't pick up a stone and more importantly please make sure they don't slink away eyes downcast. They don't have to say anything, but don't let them walk away. And don't you either. You owe me at least that...
PS--There are many people who have reached out in love and support of our family, and for that we are eternally grateful.
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